


in the end, i'd do it all again

by basementhero



Series: the boys time can't capture [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Band, hinted possible relationship in future, the others are just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 05:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4612971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basementhero/pseuds/basementhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost a decade after One Direction doesn't come back from their "break," Niall is kind of not dealing with it and an ex-fan's comment brings it all to the forefront of a couple people's minds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> inspiration/title from Fall Out Boy's "The Kids Aren't Alright"

They never came back.

Their fifth album came out, they released a second single from it and shot a video, performed on a few talk shows and made some radio appearances, and then it was over. They’d meant to take a year off: Niall had joked leading up to it that they wouldn’t even last the whole twelve months before they were all dying to get back in the studio and on the road. 

It’s been nearly a decade already and they’re still on indefinite hiatus. 

When asked, as they sometimes were in months thirteen and fourteen and sixteen, they all said they just needed a little more time and then they would ease back into the band. By month eighteen no one was asking except the still-dedicated Twitter fans (and Niall’s dad--he still asked nearly once a month when the lads were going to be over). 

Even when they weren’t touring together and writing songs and dealing with screaming fangirls, they were still friends, brothers even...in the beginning, anyway. Niall was the third person Louis called when baby Tomlinson was born, after Louis’ mother and Liam, but right before Harry. He hadn’t been in LA to see Jack in person, but he was kept updated with what felt like hundreds of pictures of the tiny baby. Even though Harry was rarely in London, he and Niall texted back and forth daily and had Skype calls regularly. And when Liam finally decided to propose to Sophia, Niall went with him on one of his many excursions to look at rings. 

Of course, by the time the wedding actually rolled around, the four hadn’t been _One Direction_ in almost three years. Niall, Harry, and Louis all attended, but they weren’t in the wedding party and Niall knew none of them exchanged more than brief congratulations with the groom. It was awkward, he supposed, to see each other when they barely managed to call on birthdays but knew, deep down, that they were supposed to have already been back in each other’s pockets. By that point Niall had figured out that they were never going to be a band again, even if his heart didn’t want to let him admit it. 

As far as Niall knew, Louis was still living in LA with Briana and their son, and he knew that Liam and Sophia had had twins but their names had never been released to the public and he felt it would too weird to ask. And Zayn...well, he didn’t even bear mentioning, really, having stopped contacting his ex-bandmates not long after he quit. Niall knew his album had done respectably well, but it must have been nothing like the fame the Bradford boy was used to.

Of the four of them, only Harry really stayed in the spotlight. Niall wasn’t surprised; the other lad was practically made to be the center of attention. Niall bought every single song Harry had writing credits on (and there were a _lot_ over the years), pre-ordered the solo album that came out around year four post-band, and kept tabs on all of the artists signed to the label that Harry created by himself in LA. At first, Niall had made sure to tweet his congratulations when someone picked up one of Harry’s songs or when his ex-bandmate would get nominated for silly awards; he stopped doing that after the twentieth or so time that Harry didn’t acknowledge the support. 

And as for Niall… he didn’t really do much. He’d started out playing guitar, hanging out with his mates, writing songs to show the lads when they came off hiatus. When it stopped seeming like there was going to be a band to return to, the songwriting fell off a bit and the guitar playing was more strained and his list of mates dwindled down as he fell out of fame.

The first time he walked down the road to Tesco’s and bought cereal without being spotted by any fans or cameras, Niall cried. Not in Tesco’s, obviously, but as soon as he closed the door to his flat he practically fell onto his sofa in tears. There was something so surreal about fading into the crowd, like it couldn’t possibly be real life. He knew that was absurd and that not being noticed was the epitome of regular life; it was just that he was only sixteen when he auditioned for X factor and since then he’d adjusted his view of reality to include, to celebrate, recognition by random strangers on the pavement. He felt conceited for thinking it, but he was disappointed that his band was apparently just like nearly every other band before them, famous for a time but then quickly forgotten about. During their run, admittedly longer than expected for a band of their genre, Niall had apparently convinced himself that they were different, somehow more important, more timeless. He had been twenty and naively sure that he’d still be running from excited crowds when he was sixty. Niall’s mum sent him an article she found about them around what would have been their ten-year anniversary; other than that, no one seems to care.

Some days he was glad they went out the way they did. They left on a high note, when they could’ve stuck around a few more years and watched their fanbase dwindle off while they were still trying to make music. Niall never had to see a single released to a nonchalant fanbase, never had to see his tours get cut back from stadiums to arenas as people stopped wanting to come. Other days he was upset because they must have had at least one more album in them, one last hoorah to give and a few more smiles to bring to the faces of millions across the world. That’s what he’d liked best about their job, making people happy, and now that it was over he couldn’t even manage to make himself happy most days.

It’s just a regular Thursday, dull and uneventful as always, when Niall notices a rare notification pop up on his phone. Hardly anyone outside of his family contacts him anymore, and there’s certainly no reason for Twitter to be showing up on his phone. Niall is understandably perplexed as he taps on the app icon to see what the fuss is about.

@ _katiekat223_ : @ _NiallOfficial_ @ _Harry_Styles_ @ _onedirection my cousin was feeling down so i pulled this out. brings back memories!!_

And the girl had linked to the very old video of “What Makes You Beautiful.” Niall can’t help but click play, turning up the volume on his phone absentmindedly as the familiar guitar riffs begin. 

They all look so _young_ , is all he can think at first. Liam’s hair is ridiculous, for one, and just the sight of his own blonde hair is a shock, considering he hasn’t dyed it since Liam’s wedding. And Harry is just so...different. And Zayn, Zayn looks like he wants to be with them, instead of being the moody, reserved person he came to be towards the end. They all seem so happy to be together, hanging out on the beach. Niall can remember, perhaps not as clearly as he would like to, how high they’d been on life at the time. Fresh-faced and acutely aware of how lucky they were, the boys had all been full of energy. Niall and Louis had barely even been in the damn song and still they were nothing but grins just at the chance to be there with everyone.

As the Harry on screen steps up to his on-camera love interest, Niall is struck by the memory of how much he’d had a crush on the other lad back then. It had been fairly innocent, born of the crazy circumstances and being around each other all the time, but Niall can clearly recall wanting nothing more than to just bask in Harry’s presence for a while whenever he was feeling down or insecure. It had been very pathetic, but it faded a bit over the years, although never completely going away. 

Niall doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the video has already ended and he’s left staring at a blank screen. 

He ends up watching all of their old music videos that day, then the movie, then all their official concert recordings, then their X Factor performances, and finally culminating in poorly-shot footage from fans’ phones. He barely even pauses to switch to his laptop when his phone battery dies.

It’s well past midnight when Niall finally pulls back up the tweet that has brought him down memory lane. He’d been thinking of how to respond in the back of his brain all day, but he finally settles on: “ _thank you. needed that._ ”

The next day, after seeing that the girl (who he is personally considering his guardian angel) had favorited his tweet and replied with some combination of shock and happiness, Niall pulls out his guitar from the back of his closet and plays through “Don’t Forget Where You Belong” at least ten times before he even takes a shower and has something to eat. That’s how the following week goes-- Niall wakes up, plays guitar, eats occasionally, and plays some more. He tears up the first time he sings along: his voice is rusty and strained but there’s something undeniably right about it. He almost can’t bring himself to sing the others’ parts but it’s worse to hear the silence and be reminded that he’s all alone.

When the doorbell rings in the middle of the first verse of “Clouds,” Niall thinks it’s just the Chinese he ordered when he realized he hadn’t been to the shop in a while and there was nothing in his flat to eat except an egg and some old cans of soup. He puts his guitar down somewhat reluctantly and shuffles over to the door, thankful he’d at least thought to put on a clean shirt that morning.

“Hey, tha--”

It’s not the Chinese delivery guy. 

“Niall,” the not-a-Chinese-delivery-boy breathes out like he’d been expecting someone else but is relieved to have been wrong.

Niall closes the door in his face.

The man knocks urgently this time. Niall stares at the door handle for what feels like hours before he can turn it again.

“What are you doing here, Harry?” is all he can say.

“Can I come in?” is his reply.

The Irishman kind of hates himself for it, but he acquiesces anyway. Harry is just as tall and otherworldly as he always was, only now Niall doesn’t have the immediate memory of a really awful joke or an awkward moment to remind him that Harry is actually kind of really normal on the inside. The taller man has cut his hair at some point since Niall last saw him, back to a length and style like what he’d sported in the Midnight Memories era of their band. Harry’s shirt isn’t specifically familiar but it reminds Niall of some of the more hideous outfits he’d seen the other pull off before, some atrocious floral pattern that he hasn’t even buttoned up more than halfway. Niall doesn’t look down to see if Harry’s still got the same taste in footwear he used to have, somehow that might have made the whole thing too real. In his old sweatpants and a striped tee, dull brown hair and socked feet, Niall feels very much like a child. They’re both thirty years old now and Niall hasn’t seen Harry in person since they were twenty-five. 

“I saw your tweet,” Harry says after they’ve stared awkwardly at anything but each other for a few minutes in Niall’s entryway.

Niall has no response for that. Why this tweet, is what he thinks in his head. Why not the ones he’d sent years before, when it still made sense for them to be in contact, when he was still trying to be the Niall Harry used to like and not now, when he was just the Niall left over.

“I listened to “What Makes You Beautiful” for two days. I kept thinking how we were really, proper happy back then, and how I missed your birthday the last five years but every time I remembered after I couldn’t bring myself to call.”

To be fair, Niall hadn’t called for Harry’s birthday either. He hadn’t forgotten, but he hadn’t called.

“I almost went to see Louis three days ago but I had to come here to see you first. Does that make sense?” Harry ruffles his own hair nervously. 

Niall eyes his guitar across the room, his fingers twitching to get back to the strings where nothing is complicated and it’s like he’s gone back in time.

“Niall. Are you going to say something?”

“Wasn’t planning on it” comes out of his mouth before Niall actually decides to say it.

Harry looks affronted, and some dark part of Niall’s heart sneers that he doesn’t have any right to be. He knows it isn’t Harry’s fault that the band never reformed; if anyone, Niall blames himself for not trying hard enough. But something about Harry’s stupid face and his ugly shirt is just offensive to Niall at the moment--Harry doesn’t belong in his flat, in his life, anymore and it’s painful to see him there. 

The doorbell rings again to break their awkward silence, and this time it is actually the Chinese delivery guy, although Niall doesn’t feel much like eating now. He takes the bag of food and lets it sit in the corner by the front door because he can’t even turn around and look at Harry again, much less walk past him to get to the kitchen. Niall’s never noticed before how uneven the coating of paint is on the inside of his door; he wishes he had something to fix it with just so he’d have something to do with his hands.

“ _Nothing’s fine, I’m torn_ ,” Harry sings quietly from a lot closer behind him than Niall remembered the other being. “ _I’m all out of faith...This is how I feel. I’m cold and I am shamed, lying naked on the floor…_ ”

And it’s so fucking ridiculous and so fucking Harry that Niall starts sobbing, his forehead falling with a loud thump onto the door. 

“ _Illusion never changed into something real_ ,” Harry keeps going, getting a little louder but no less soft. Niall feels the taller’s hand rest on his shaking shoulder and he can’t bring himself to reject the comfort. “ _I’m wide awake, and I can see the perfect sky is torn…_ ”

“ _You’re a little late_ ,” Niall croaks out, “ _I’m already torn_.”

Harry doesn’t sing back, he just forcibly turns Niall around and holds him impossibly tightly and fuck if it doesn’t feel like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is meant to be approximately 2024, and I know that technology changes and probably Twitter won't really be a thing then, but you never know. For the sake of the story, all technological progress halted in 2015.
> 
> Sorry for the cheesy duet but "Torn" got stuck in my head at just the right moment and it was oddly appropriate.


	2. i'm tired of feeling alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from Harry's "Don't Let Me Go"

Niall knows this isn’t going to last. Harry’s been in his flat for ten days now and Niall’s just waiting for him to pack up and leave again. 

They haven’t talked much about the band and what happened. Harry asked that first night what Niall has been up to for the last few years, and Niall’s resigned shrug was enough to banish the subject to the darkest corners of their minds. They watch football and old movies and whatever else comes on the telly when they have it on. Niall doesn’t pick up his guitar unless Harry’s asleep; he doesn’t know why, maybe it feels like he can’t have both memories of the past together at once. 

Harry goes to the shop for food and makes breakfast for them every morning. He bakes cupcakes one afternoon, which Niall doesn’t eat because he likes how pretty they look on his table. They're vanilla cakes with orange, white, and green frosting because Harry's apparently more obsessed with Ireland than Niall is (was? he hasn't been home in a while). He doesn’t want to think about how he’s going to have to throw the cupcakes away when Harry goes back to LA. 

With Harry around, his flat looks like somebody lives in it again. They've done all the laundry and Harry insisted on a proper tablecloth. All the curtains are thrown open every morning to let in more sunlight than Niall thinks he's seen in years. Harry went out and bought himself enough bath products for an army, so Niall's bathroom is covered in tubes and bottles he can't even hope to sort through. They do the dishes together at night--Harry washes, Niall dries--and Niall even laughs freely when they get into soap bubble wars or when Harry snaps a towel at his bum. It's not all sunshine and rainbows, not even close, but there are moments when Niall feels like a human being again.

Harry finally sleeps in one morning after they stayed up watching the new series of Doctor Who and Niall doesn’t know what to do with himself because if he plays guitar he might wake the other man up. He’s restless when he can’t see Harry: he's gaining energy back slowly and there's nowhere for it to go when he's alone, so it rattles his bones and slithers around on his skin until he can find an outlet. Niall turns on the news--entertainment news, because the regular news is so bleak and depressing sometimes that it makes him sadder than he already is--quietly to hopefully fill some of the empty spaces.

“--other news, Harry Styles has been spotted a few times around London this past week, the first time he’s been seen outside of LA for several years now.”

They throw up a picture of Harry walking into the Tesco’s Niall knows is the closest to the flat. He thinks he presses down on the remote to turn off the telly, but his finger doesn’t seem to be cooperating.

“Social media’s been abuzz with theories ranging from a clandestine wedding to a--” the presenter, a pretty redhead, laughs at her teleprompter incredulously “--a secret reunion of One Direction!”

Why is that so funny, Niall wants to know, even though he already has the answer: Harry’s made a name for himself, but Niall and the others and the band itself have faded so far into obscurity that no amount of marketing could hope to return them even a quarter of the popularity they’d had before.

“--stated Styles’ recent sightings have all been in a small area of the city,” the presenter has gone on without Niall’s attention. “Some have made claims that Styles has clearly been in the vicinity of ex-band member Neil Horan’s old address--”

“They got your name wrong.”

Niall didn’t hear Harry come in to the room, but now the other man’s standing in his pants with a frown on his face behind the sofa Niall’s sitting on.

“Doesn’t matter much, does it,” Niall whispers over the continuing news broadcast.

“Matters to me.”

Niall sees a tanned, tattooed arm stretch over his shoulder, and the hand attached to it grasps the remote and pulls it away. The television screen goes black. Harry puts the remote back on the end table Niall had picked it up from in the first place and then wanders off, presumably to get something to eat.

“S’pose you’ll be heading back to LA soon,” Niall calls hesitantly.

“What?” comes back from the kitchen.

Niall repeats himself a little louder, a little clearer.

“Why d’you say that?” Harry asks around a mouthful of something when he strolls back out of the kitchen to sit next to Niall on the sofa.

“They want to know why you’re in London. If you go back to LA, the story will die out,” Niall explains more calmly than he feels. He doesn’t say how the smidgen of hope that’s been growing weakly inside him over the last few days will die, too.

“Niall,” Harry says very seriously, reaching out to hold one of Niall’s bony wrists (Harry’s fingers wrap all the way around and overlap, Niall notices, but he’s never really thought before about how skinny’s he’s gotten lately, once he stopped eating his feelings because he’s thirty now and won’t have his metabolism forever). 

“Niall,” Harry says even more seriously because Niall isn’t paying attention. The younger man waits until their eyes meet before he continues. “I’m not going back to LA unless you want me to.”

Of fucking course Niall doesn't want Harry to go back to LA. Niall wants Harry to stay where he is, next to him with his giant hands making Niall feel small. Niall wants Louis and Liam to burst into his flat like they've just gone out to get beer for a rowdy night of FIFA and movies. Niall will even take Zayn at his moodiest or Simon telling him he's mucked up their performance or his own crooked teeth and busted knee. Niall would relive anything, _everything_ , to get back all the parts of that life that he loved. And with one of those parts right there sitting beside him, Niall doesn't know if he can handle letting go again. 

Is that selfish? Niall thinks maybe he should be strong enough to do what's best for Harry and send the other man back to LA, where he's got a job and a life and probably some girl waiting for him. What's Harry got here? Niall? Niall knows he's not exactly put together right now, definitely not the Niall Harry must have been expecting when he got on that plane. 

Harry's just looking at him with this _face_ that exudes patience and anticipation and hope and fear all at the same time. Niall's kind of in love with him, always has been. It's not that he can't breathe without Harry, but it's so much easier with him here. 

"Stay. Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said "maybe I'll write an epilogue" but this still doesn't feel like an epilogue so stay tuned, who knows.
> 
> UPDATE: 9/22/15: epilogue achieved


	3. i'm yours (infinity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the promised "epilogue"

Harry’s got an idea. This fact would be terrifying on it’s own, but apparently said idea requires Niall to be led blindfolded through the streets of London, so at this point Niall’s not sure what he should expect. The taller man has been vibrating with excited energy for literally days, ever since he announced one evening that he’d had a brilliant epiphany and that Niall’s going to love it. Niall is fifty percent certain that he’s _not_ going to love it (and ninety-nine percent certain that he’ll pretend he does anyway just so he doesn’t disappoint Harry). 

They’re at a good place now, Harry and Niall. Niall doesn’t hold his breath every time Harry walks out the door, and Harry doesn’t tiptoe around constantly like he thinks Niall will break at any moment. Harry had some of his clothes shipped to him from LA not three days after Niall admitted he wanted him to stay; everything was initially neatly folded or hung up in Niall’s spare room but eventually the strange shirts and eccentric boots and tight pants found their way onto Niall’s floor and under his bed and in his closet amongst the too-big t shirts and sweats and sneakers he’d taken to wearing when he’d stopped going outside much all those years ago. Niall’s bedroom looks a lot like what a younger Niall had thought NiallandHarry’s room could have been if they’d ever become a romantic thing, which they still weren’t, it’s just that Harry’s limbs are so long and gangly they fit much better on Niall’s king-sized mattress than on the tiny bed in the spare room, even with Niall also in the mix. He likes Harry’s cuddly octopus ways, doesn’t have the heart to send him back to his own room even though sometimes it’s hard to breathe at 3am when he wakes up and feels an arm slung securely over his waist or cold toes pressing into his calves. 

When Harry finally stops giggling about how brilliant his plan is long enough to announce that they’ve arrived, Niall thinks he’s going to pass out. 

He’d noticed being brought into a building and through a few doors, taken in the silence of the environment and assumed Harry had bought some place out because Niall still isn’t quite used to being around too many people again. He’d been prepared to tell Harry off for spending a bunch of money on him, ready to take whatever was offered to him and fake as good of a smile as he could, steeled to see Harry’s brightest grin directed at him and not blush. 

The blindfold was pulled off and now all Niall wants to do is run.

It’s been years, but it’s not like Niall could forget what a recording studio looks like. The sheer number of buttons and lights and knobs used to scare Niall away but right now what’s terrifying him is how much he wants to walk up to that microphone and just _sing_ something. He wants to hear his voice echoed back at him even though he’s sure it would be awful and out of key. And it’s all really frightening because Niall knows if he does that he’s going to be set five steps backwards and he’ll never get over it.

Niall finally lets himself tear his eyes away and look at Harry again. Harry doesn’t have the Cheshire cat grin Niall half expected; instead the taller man just looks fond and almost proud.

“What are we doing here, Harry?” Niall’s voice cracks embarrassingly. 

“Well I didn’t think you’d be ready for the stage yet,” Harry takes Niall’s wrist and tugs him gently towards the booth, “but you always seemed at home here, too.”

Niall lets himself be led inside and doesn’t stop Harry from putting a headset on him. He stands in front of the microphone and stares blankly at the glass in front of him, completely lost for what to do even when Harry appears on the other side and gives him a thumbs up. Harry presses a couple buttons and before Niall knows it, he’s already missed his cue. It doesn’t phase Harry, who restarts the song. Niall thinks distractedly that Harry must think he’ll just fall back into recording naturally but he can’t make his voice work or his lips move.

After a couple unsuccessful attempts to coax Niall into singing, Harry makes his way back into the booth.

“You alright?”

Niall can’t even shake his head, he’s so spooked by the memories floating around this room he’s never even been in before.

Harry seems to decide something, and he goes back out to hit a couple things before he comes back in with his own headset. He lightly moves Niall to the side just enough to stand close and be able to lean into the mic just in time for the music he must have put on a delay to start up.

“ _Down to Earth, keep on falling when I know it hurts,_ ” Harry croons into the mic, having apparently changed the song choice in response to Niall’s muteness. 

Niall kind of hates this song, in a way. It ended up being their final single before the “break” and the melancholy lyrics proved to be so relatable he hadn’t let himself think of them for a long time. 

“ _And now I’m one step closer to being two steps far from you._ ” Harry turned his head a bit to look intently at Niall, who’d been watching him the whole time even though he hadn’t meant to be. “ _When everybody wants you, everybody wants you_...”

Niall mouths absent-mindedly along to the chorus as Harry sings it much quieter than he had in the original single. This time Harry stays as somber as he’d been singing the first verse. 

“ _Eyes can’t shine_ ,” Niall surprises them both when the words pour out of his mouth, maybe not confidently or at full volume, but they’re there and he can’t seem to stop, “ _unless there’s something burning bright behind. Since you went away there’s nothing left in mine. I feel myself running out of time_ ,” he couldn’t help but feel like he was finally telling Harry the things that were on his mind over the years on his own, which he hadn’t been able to make himself do before, in case it broke the peace they’d come to.

“ _And now I’m one step closer to being two steps far from you, when everybody wants you, everybody wants you…_ ” Niall could feel his eyes burning and he could see Harry’s tearing up as well, whether or not for the same reason. 

“ _How many nights does it take to count the stars? That’s the time it would take to fix my heart. Oh, baby, I was there for you. All I ever wanted was the truth_.” He can feel his his voice wavering, so it’s nice that Harry quietly picks up harmonizing in the background even though he almost feels like he needs to do this on his own, spill out what he’s feeling before he goes back to being speechless. “ _How many nights have you wished someone would stay? Lie awake only hoping they’re okay?_ ” And he can’t be mad at Harry now that he’s here and his curls are brushing against Niall’s face every time either one of them twitches, but there was a time that anger was all he had and he would scream into his pillow every night, furious that everyone had left him and couldn’t even be bothered to let him know they were doing alright anymore. “ _I never counted all of mine, if I tried I know it would feel like infinity..._ ”

There’s a musical interlude that sounds toned down from the original track and Niall thinks maybe Harry’s had this song planned and that’s where he’s been going during the day, to get the track worked out and not to look through secondhand shops like he’d said. Niall appreciates everything despite the spinning in his head from being overwhelmed by the amount of emotion pouring out of the green of Harry’s eyes. He’s sure the microphone has caught some of his harsh breathing but he doesn’t know if he can be bothered by it when Harry’s looking at him like he’s both sorry and intensely happy at the same time.

“ _How many nights does it take to count the stars?_ ” Harry croons as the song starts to pull to a close. “ _That’s the time it would take to fix my heart._ ”

“ _How many nights have you wished someone would stay?_ ” Niall counters equally soft after by some unspoken agreement they decided to skip the near accusation of the preceding line. “ _Lie awake only hoping they’re okay? I never counted all of mine--_ ”

“-- _if I tried I know it would feel like infinity_ ,” Harry finishes off with some hushed “infinity”s as the music fades out leaving them in the suddenly awkward silence of the recording booth.

If this were a movie, Niall thinks he would lean in and kiss Harry and Harry would kiss back and say he’d always wanted to. Niall doesn’t have the kind of courage movie characters have, though. He doesn’t have a scriptwriter and a director telling him everything will be okay if he takes that leap, so he doesn’t take it. He moves his neck downward instead to rest his forehead on Harry’s chest as he goes for a much safer embrace.

They don’t bring it up again for several days. After the song, Harry brought Niall home and they had pizza delivered while they watched trashy romantic comedies until they both fell asleep on the couch. Six days later, Niall’s making eggs for a late breakfast in a weird button down that must be Harry’s and his own shorts when Harry comes back from wherever he’d run off to at seven that morning, looking almost guilty behind his smile.

“Ni,” Harry draws out in greeting, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Niall shuts off the burner and turns around to face the taller man, sure he won’t be able to finish cooking once he finds out whatever Harry’s clearly nervous to tell him. “What’s wrong?”

“I may have...done something…”

He couldn’t have been any more vague, so Niall doesn’t say anything and waits for Harry to get to the point. Instead of coming up with a more specific sentence, Harry passes over his phone, the screen already unlocked and showing a webpage.

_**Harry Styles releases surprise “new” single** _

_**Fans were shocked Thursday morning when Harry Styles dropped a single without warning. Fans were further surprised to find themselves listening not to a new song, but what appeared to be a rerecording of a single, “Infinity,” previously released by Styles’ former boyband, One Direction. The song is notably the last single the band released before going on indefinite hiatus. Halfway into the song, a third bomb dropped when a second voice joined Styles--adamant ex-fans of One Direction insist this guest singer is none other than Niall Horan, also a former member, but no official credits for the song have been released confirming the second artist.** _

Niall scans the page several times, not comprehending initially what was put in front of his eyes. 

“You--you released the song?” 

Harry nods with a grimace.

“Why?”

“I don’t really know.” Harry scratches at the nape of his neck uncomfortably. “I just...did it.”

Niall doesn’t really have anything else to say. He turns back to the stove, clutching Harry’s phone to his chest like a lifeline as he uses his other hand to resume cooking his breakfast like nothing has happened.

It takes hours for the two to speak again, not until Harry’s had a call from his manager scolding him for the stunt and a call from his mother, asking him if he’s really seen Niall again. Niall hears both conversations because Harry answers them both, puts them immediately on speaker and then returns his phone to Niall, who still can’t let it go or stop reading articles about Harry’s-- _their_ \--song. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry says eventually, once the sun’s gone down and they’re trying to eat sandwiches and not look at each other. “Not sorry that I did it, but sorry I didn’t tell you about it and ask when you were ready.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Niall lets out in a breath. “I’m not--I’m not mad, but why did you do this? Your manager said it could hurt your career, and--”

“Fuck my career!” Harry shouts uncharacteristically. “I had my career for eight years and I was happy but it wasn’t the _same_! Niall, don’t you get that? I missed you all the time, and the lads, and I was always pretending not to because it was easier. I don’t want easy or solo anymore, I want _you_.”

Niall’s gaze flicks back and forth between Harry’s eyes because the full force of both at once is too much. At some point during his rant Harry had stood up from the dining table but Niall didn’t feel small even though he was being towered over. 

“Niall,” Harry reaches out to cradle Niall’s cheek with his hand, “I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to go call Grimmy and see if he can get me on air tomorrow to set some things straight.”

Niall’s first thought is it must be awkward for someone as tall as Harry to bend over so far to kiss someone sitting down. Then he thinks about how he’s been biting his lips a lot lately so they’re probably not particularly soft, like Harry’s are. Niall doesn’t get around to thinking much about the kiss itself before Harry pulls away because there are too many details in that one, brief moment.

Niall’s not proud of how long it takes him to come back to his senses after Harry’s gone off to make his call. Once he’s arguably coherent, he’s on a mission and neither the rules of proper etiquette when someone’s on the phone nor Harry’s surprised face when he bursts into the room can keep him from pouncing on the taller man and kissing him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Infinity" came out right when I was looking for a song for them to sing, so thank you, One Direction.


End file.
